Records of the Galaxy
by Vulion
Summary: A set of short stories set in the Warhammer 40000 universe.


Patrol Duty

A short story by Dominik Zebala aka Vulion

******

Noise pervaded the jungle; a blanket of sound so thick and overwhelming he could barely hear his own labored breathing. He had his back resting against a large tree, his ears straining to hear anything over the canopy of jungle sounds and his own ears pounding. The exhaustion of a ten kilometer mad dash weighed him down as struggled to move into a crouched position next to the tree he had been resting against, every movement made him aware of damn near every bruise on his body but to lay back and bitch about would do nothing to save him. Lasgun firmly in hand, he peered out in the direction he expected the greenskins to appear. Nothing so far, but he knew they would be upon him soon enough.

Lying back against the tree, he checked his equipment. His belt pouches had a spare Lasgun pack and enough rations for the next few days along with his combat knife, the Catachan fang. Three frags adorned his vest, enough to deal some serious damage if used correctly. He checked the compass on his right wristband, trying to get his bearings. From what he could guess, he was some dozen kilometers away from the outpost.

The day, Jonathan Hauberk decided, was turning into a pretty shitty one. At least the tree he was hiding behind wasn't a Brainleaf. That was one thing to give praise to the Emperor for.

The rest of his squad was dead, torn apart by a group of Orks and if he was to guess, so was the outpost his squad was sent to investigate. And here he was thinking some jackass knocked over their vox-caster or maybe they got torn into by a pack of Fiddlers. Either situation was a problem, but each was a problem that the people of Catachan were well trained in dealing with. You had to be to see your tenth birthday. But two dozen greenskins suddenly ambushing your squad from out of nowhere, while not unfamiliar, was not what they were expecting.

The stop gave him time to gather his thoughts on what had happened to his squad. It couldn't have even been called a fight, ten seconds was all it took to bring down a squad of some of the finest men he ever knew. The squad's vox-caster, along with the guy carrying it, his buddy Rory, was the first casualty of the engage, axe tearing right through the poor bastard and into the piece of equipment. The rest of the squad soon began joining the radio man on the ground, blood seeping into the ground from severed limbs and open chests. Only a lucky crack shot into the eye of his Ork attacker let the Guardsman escape with his life into the Catachan jungle.

Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle to himself over the idea. Running deeper into the jungle was supposed to save his life when the jungle had been trying to kill him since before he was born. But the threat of the Orks was a lot more imminent and though the jungles of Catachan could kill a person in a matter of moments, the Guardsman always felt that the damn planet enjoyed taking it's time when killing someone. He prayed to the Emperor that today was a day that the planet just wanted to enjoy watching him suffer and leave him for another day where it could toy with him again. He also prayed for the quick feet and quick wits he we would need to make it back to the settlement.

The guttural yelling of Orks finally pierced the great veil of wild noises that pounded incessantly around the Guardsman's head. Steeling himself behind the tree once more, he cautiously glanced in the direction he suspected the Orks were coming from. Over a dozen of the brutes stalked towards him. The creatures looked even uglier now that he had a chance to spare more than a quick look at them. Ugly though they may have been, they were still taller than him and much wider. Massive, crude axes cleared away the various brush and leaves that obscured their path. Though their green skin helped blend them into the surrounding canopy, their crude metal armor made them stick out like a black spot on white paper, he could slip by them without too much trouble.

Of course, that was before another two dozen Orks appeared on either side of the group he had first spotted.

This was not a random rabble of Orks that just happened upon his squad. No, Jonathan was certain he was staring at part of an attack force. An attack force on their way to a settlement that was not yet aware it was even threatened by something other than the planet's native flora and fauna. More Orks began to appear and over the noise of the jungle he heard an Ork yelling.

"Spread out, ya gits!" The yelling became louder and finally the owner of the voice came into view. An Ork larger and wearing more armor than the others muscled his way past several of the smaller greenskins.

An Ork Nob. An Ork Nob with a freshly bleeding hole where his left eye should have been, Jonathan noted.

"Dat humie, is 'ere somewhere!" The Nob yelled, its voice a strange mix of glee and anger. "Make sure 'e and any udders don't run away!"

Of course, of all the Orks he had to shoot in the eye, he had to shoot the leader of an entire platoon of the Emperor-damned xeno's.

Jonathan shook his head, this was no time to lament about the fact that his situation was worse than that of someone who just stumbled upon a Fiddler's nest. He almost wished they had, that would mean the Orks would have been ripped apart as well.

A sudden realization struck him. The outpost had been established to monitor a rather large family of Catachan Devil's had made a nest in the area; people were worried the monsters would head south, toward the settlement. A single Alpha Male could take a lot of work to take down and that was when you were expecting one and knew how to deal with it. A surprise attack by Catachan Devils had the potential to rout an entire brigade of harden soldiers.

More and more Orks began to appear amongst the trees, closing in on his position. There were a lot more than a platoon as Jonathan first guessed. He wasn't sure, but he may have just stumbled upon an entire damn brigade. A brigade of alien's on a world that didn't like aliens, no matter the appearance.

An entire damn brigade, almost at arm's length; it was not the time to think anymore. It was time to act.

Making one last, rudimentary check on his Lasgun, he burst out from behind the tree and aimed at the first xeno he saw. No more than ten paces from him, the Ork barely had enough time to let his jaw drop before a volley of Lasgun bolts smashed into its face. Pulverized and scorched xeno-flesh and bone flew into the air and splattered against the plant life as the lone Guardsman turned and fled from the rest. He heard the Ork Nob screaming at his soldiers and he knew the chase was on.

This was a very dangerous gamble and not just because he just challenged a group of Orks into a deadly game of tag. Rushing headlong into the Catachan Jungle was the first thing his parents taught him not to do, even before they taught him how to shoot. Doing so could lead a person into the waiting maw of Venus Mantrap or even worse, a Barking Toad. By the way the Orks behind were tearing through the jungle, Jonathan figured they weren't aware the danger posed by the plants or the many deadly animals that populated the planet. The advantage of knowing the battlefield was his, however small that advantage was. Or at least he hoped it was an advantage, for all he knew the Orks simply didn't care.

Stealing quick glance at his compass, he made sure he was running towards Fiddler territory. The damn things were very territorial and they were also the size of very tanks on average. That meant they had a large territory, meaning that while he may be the lone human on the planet actually looking for one, it didn't mean they were within running distance. The entire nesting family might be on the other end of their territory. Emperor knows he had that type of luck.

"C'mere, humie! Yer the last bit o' me collection! I wanna hang yer head from me belt like yer humie friends!"

He wanted to turn, he wanted to jam his Lasgun into the damned greenskins throat and he wanted keep pulling the trigger until the energy pack ran out, he wanted to cut out one of the things tusks and wear it as a trophy around his neck. He wanted to make sure the bastard paid for what happened to his squad, his friends. But that wasn't his job. His job wasn't to indulge in suicidal vengeance. Hell, his job wasn't just killing a few xeno's.

He was Jonathan Hauberk of the Catachan Jungle Fighters and his job was kill every Emperor-damned xeno he could and for once in its existence, Catachan was going to fucking help.

"Here's something for your collection!" Jonathan shouted over his shoulder. He grabbed a grenade from his vest, pulled the pin with his teeth and tossed it over his shoulder.

He didn't much bother aiming with his grenade, the greenskins were so tightly packed, he was pretty sure he would score a few kills regardless. As the grenade went off, he could hear the screams of pain emanating from the horde, evidently he been correct in his assumption but he doubted the explosion had given him more the a few seconds lead. The Orks would just trample over the bodies of their fallen comrades and keep on barreling towards him. Even with his familiarity of the terrain, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the greenskins would overrun him. He just prayed he would run into a Catachan Devil in that time.

No matter how many times he told himself that, it did not get any less stupid.

It seemed like hours since he had begun leading the Orks further into Fiddler territory, his body aching with fatigue and injury to the point that he could barely keep forcing his legs to move. Then finally it happened, his exhaustion made him miss a root that was sticking out from the ground and he fell to the ground as his foot tripping over it, that he managed to hold onto his Lasgun was the first bit good luck since the start of the chase.. Grunting through gritted teeth, he rolled a good ten meters before coming to a stop and trying to get to his feet. He managed to get into a crouch in time to see the first Ork charging at him, its axe poise for a low horizontal swipe. The fact that death was so closely looming gave Jonathan one last burst of adrenaline. He charged the damn thing and dived over the wide swipe, Ork stared at him as he flew through the air. Rolling into another crouch, he noticed that there would be no chance of celebrating his daring as another Ork was already barreling towards him.

He didn't have the time or the energy to avoid this attack. It seemed the Catachan was content to have him die in this manner not by its own machinations but by the axe of another alien. He had failed, he had failed his fellow Colonists, he had failed the Jungle Fighters, he had failed his Emperor. The others had the courage to die fighting while he had fled into the jungle. He wondered now, was it duty that drove him away from the Orks and into trees? Or cowardice? It did not matter anymore. Jonathan thought to himself, death would come swiftly enough.

Salvation comes in the most ludicrous of forms sometimes and today it took a particularly strange shape. The Ork that was rearing its axe for a strike was suddenly blown away by a volley of bullets. Jonathan watched wordlessly as his would be killer stumbled to the side with a half a dozen large holes on his side and chest. The Ork Nob ran into view and smashed its ax into the injured Orks chest. Not only was the greenskins chest torn asunder but the thing flew back a good twenty feet before landing in a crumpled heap.

"I said 'e was mine, ya gits!"

The other Orks backed away as the Nob walked around him, an ugly smile on its flat face. He saw the heads of his squad members, all nine of them dangling from the beasts belt. Sergeant Hicks served as the belt buckle, he remembered all the times he had received a solid punch to the face from the officer because he couldn't field strip his Lasgiun fast enough. Rory, Jenks and Harris hung next to Sarge; he recalled playing a game of poker with them right before the mission. He couldn't see the rest but he remembered their names: Yang, Gerst, Dorton, Marvin and Reisman. All good troopers that deserved better than being the trophy's of some fucking xeno.

Despite the burnt hole that had replaced his left eye, the Ork looked no worse for wear, though the Lasgun bolt should have fried the alien's brain. Of course he couldn't have that sort of luck. The things brain was probably too small to hit. No, the luck he had was just enough to let him run for a good hour and a half but not enough to make his suicidal plan actually work. At least he would die on his feet. He would die standing. Pushing himself to his feet, he stood and faced the Ork, not letting the creature have the satisfaction of seeing him as weak or cowardly.

"Ya gave us a good chase, humie!" Ork laughed. "But now yer head gets to be put on me belt!"

"Just end it, greenskin." Jonathan retorted between heaving breaths. His Lasgun sat firmly in his hands and he was ready to bring it to bear at a moment's notice. "I'm tired of this game."

"I like you, humie!" The alien bellowed. "No talk! Straight to da fightin'!"

With a speed he wouldn't have guess such a large creature possessed, the xeno sent a punch flying into his torso. With the wind knocked out of him and more than a few ribs probably cracked, Jonathan flew backwards into tree. Cough violently as he vomited and he tried desperately to breathe, he looked up to see the Nob running at him with its axe held high, poised for a kill blow. The other Orks cheered their leader on, reveling in the rather one sided fight. The jungle noise was drowned out by the chorus of Ork cheering; nothing could be heard over the Orks.

Which made the sudden appears of an Alpha Male Catachan Devil all the more surprising.

The beast was massive to say the least, a tank could fit into the mandibles in front of its mouth alone. Its body was segmented like a centipede and it had a comparable amount of legs, which gave it both a flexibility and speed that seemed unnatural in a creature so large. Its two front legs had grown into massive claws, which it used liberally to sweep aside Orks as if they were weeds. The Ork Nob almost toppled over to stop his charge and see what was tearing into his rabble. Jonathan couldn't guess what type of expression had dominated the Ork's face, but if he had to guess, it would be pant shitting terror. Of course, he had heard somewhere that Orks didn't know fear.

The Orks obviously had never been to Catachan.

This was his last chance, before the rest of the Fiddler's nest group arrived. Slinging the Lasgun over his shoulder, he slowly sliding the combat knife on his belt from its sheath and pulling a grenade from his vest, ready to make he at least took the Nob down himself. He approached the Ork Nob, quietly and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oi, Suzy!"

The Nob spun around only to find forty centimeters of gleaming steel rammed into its one remaining eye. Tearing the blade free with a stream of alien blood, he jumped back out the reach of the Orks violent, blind swings. The thing bellow in pain and anger as Jonathan pulled the pin out his grenade, a snarl on his lips.

"This is for my squad, you green skinned shit! Enjoy your pineapple!"

He threw the grenade with all his remaining might into the xeno's throat, who was kind enough to swallow the thing. Two seconds passed then the upper half of the Ork was ripped apart by the frag grenade explosion. Looking around he saw more Fiddlers had emerged from the forest and they were busy tearing into the Ork horde as the alien's fought back with equal ferocity. He had to act quickly; the Fiddler's liked having human's in their territory as much as they liked Orks.

And that wasn't a lot.

Quickly crouching beside the lower half of the Ork, he undid the belt around the things waist and strapped it diagonally over his chest. His friends at least deserved something of a burial having died like proud guardsmen. Of course the fresh blood and the rot that would no doubt take hold of the head's would usually invite every creature within ten kilometers to an easy lunch but he was in Catachan Devil territory. Everything within ten kilometers was wise enough to stay away.

Sparing no more time to look at the plight of the Orks, he checked his compass and headed due south, towards the settlement.

******

Daisy looked up from her Sniper scope and blinked several times to make sure she had nothing in them before returning her eye to its proper position. Jonathan Hauberk was jogging towards the main settlement gates, looking like he had just been through hell and carrying human heads on a belt slung over his chest. She turned to the sniper next to her, a buddy of hers named Dilan, but he looked about as perplexed as she was.

"Uh, what do we do?"

Dilan just shrugged and put his eye back to his scope. The guardswoman shook her head, and stared over the wall at the little speck that was Jonathan. The Captain would have to hear about this. An outpost they had lost contact with nine days ago was bad enough, but now it appeared that the squad they had sent to investigate it had met whatever fate befell the outpost.

Jonathan definitely had a story to tell.

******

To hell with cracked ribs, though Guardsmen Jonathan Hauberk of the Catachan Jungle Fighters as he fell face first into his firm cot, he was gonna enjoy every minute of sleep he had missed for the last six days. Emperor help whoever tried to make him do otherwise.

His report was in and the Colonel was mustering an attack force to scour the Jungle for any more Orks. Hopefully the Fiddlers tore them up enough so that the sweep would be relatively easy. He couldn't help but smile when he thought back to debriefing. The entire room fell silent when he mentioned that he lead the Orks into Catachan Devil territory. The Colonel announced that he was brave and quick thinking, but above all, a moron. He also said, he was putting for a recommendation for off world duty as soon as the next tithe ship arrived.

Jonathan ran his thumb over his bandanna, within a year or two; he would be off world and facing the Emperor's enemies. He would face unknown horrors in the Emperor's name and hold his ground no matter the cost. He wondered if the planet would miss him.

He chuckled to himself; the only thing the planet would miss was the opportunity to kill him itself.


End file.
